<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>as the world twirls around in ribbons of light by Lire_Casander</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790860">as the world twirls around in ribbons of light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander'>Lire_Casander</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>as the world whirls [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, M/M, Mentions of overdosing, Not Beta Read, Past Drug Use, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of drug use, suicide ideation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:40:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He hides behind his bashful smile, behind the joking tone, behind the gestures that mean he’s in for a brighter future; he hides behind the apparent knowledge of being in the right path for once ― a way out of the black hole his life became once upon a time, a light at the end of the tunnel he’s buried himself in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)/TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>as the world whirls [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>as the world twirls around in ribbons of light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by that line in S01E06 when Judd’s talking about celebrating with booze and TK mentions he’s drinking water either way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He hides behind his bashful smile, behind the joking tone, behind the gestures that mean he’s in for a brighter future; he hides behind the apparent knowledge of being in the right path for once ― a way out of the black hole his life became once upon a time, a light at the end of the tunnel he’s buried himself in.</p><p>A reason to live when all he’s been doing all this time has been merely surviving.</p><p>Later, when no one’s watching him, everyone too busy congratulating Mateo and getting wasted, he swirls the half-empty bottle in his hands, marveling at the iridescence the striking lights in this bar create on it. He reflects on how he’s come this far, on why he’s here, now. He has the feeling he doesn’t deserve all the luck he’s been given so far ― surviving an overdose twice isn’t something to be proud of, and yet he can’t help it.</p><p>He’s a survivor. He can do this. He will.</p><p>He tries to ignore the itch at the top of his fingertips, daring him to fall back into old habits. He attempts to drown the need to go searching for a dealer who sells exactly what he’s looking for. He watches the glasses full to the brim with alcohol and temptation, and closes his eyes against the fear of being way too weak to get through this unscathed.</p><p>There’s a permanent reminder of what Alex still means to him inked in his soul, and the urge to drink it to oblivion is too strong sometimes; there’s a sensual scent in the pills he can’t buy anymore that’s too heady for him to ignore. He just <em>wants</em>, and not even bar brawls and anonymous sex can soothe it any longer.</p><p>He wishes for Carlos to not like him, because that’s only going to complicate everything, and he’s already a complicated guy without the added stress of having to care about someone so soon after Alex left him heartbroken and half dead. But he <em>yearns </em>for that complication, he dreams of strong arms around him at night and soft kisses in the morning, of shredded shirts and shared PJs. He doesn’t usually allow himself to <em>wish</em>, but from time to time his heart takes over and revolutionize everything inside of him. He dreads those moments, but he longs for them nonetheless.</p><p>He’s ashamed of his instincts ― of his penchant for the white of oxy and the translucent of booze, of his suicidal tendencies to dive head first into danger, of his craving for pain to wash away the grief. He’s afraid of himself, of the way his hands ball into fists at the simplest of grievances, of the hitch in his breath when he’s faced with disappointment, of the inevitability of his stubbornness. He’s terrified of being alone in this world, and that’s exactly what’s happening ― when his father loses his battle, one day, he’s going to be the one left behind. There’s no one else around him, no one else who cares, and he listens to that vicious voice in his mind telling him that no one would even mind if he wasn’t around.</p><p>He swirls the bottle once more, watching the remnants of the mineral water twirling inside of the plastic container, and sighs. He’s ready to give in, once more, when a hand lands on his shoulder.</p><p>He looks up and his eyes meet Judd’s, who’s squeezing tight through the fabric of his shirt, and Grace’s, who’s holding on her husband’s hand with a smile. There’s a rush of affection coursing through him when his eyes roam the rest of the table ― the faces of his new found family, now looking at him with a fondness he doesn’t think he deserves. His father shakes his head before heading out to the dance floor with Michelle.</p><p>There’s a ruckus around him as Carlos makes his way through the crowd and throws an arm around his waist, pulling him backwards until his back is settled against Carlos’ chest. A heartbeat that calms him, a steadiness he didn’t know he could ever find. And the words he’s dying to hear, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, whispered in a pouring rain of feelings that wash over him like a waterfall, calm his impulse to flee.</p><p>“I’m here, Ty.”</p><p>The reassurance of a presence that doesn’t seem to ever walk away, no matter how hard he tries to push Carlos away, is enough to keep him in place, stuck against a heart that’s beating in a fast staccato, grounding him, tethering him to a moment when everything’s calm, everything’s easy.</p><p>He whispers back, “I’m glad you are.”</p><p>And for a split second, his whole world makes sense without the addiction and the withdrawals, and the bottle stops twirling in his hand.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>